


Girls, Girls, Girls

by quizasvivamos



Series: Outlaws Klaine [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Humor, M/M, Outlaw Blaine, Outlaw Kurt, Sexual Humor, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quizasvivamos/pseuds/quizasvivamos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine are notorious outlaws who are trekking westward from their home in New York where their crime spree began to California where they hope to find sanctuary and start a new life. While spending a few nights in a small frontier town, they find themselves in danger of being caught and must make a desperate attempt to get out of town fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls, Girls, Girls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riverance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverance/gifts).



> I wrote this one shot as the text for a comic created by the wonderful riverance. The pages of the comic and other accompanying artwork are now complete and can be found below the main text. :)

The cloud of cigar smoke blown in Kurt’s direction from the man across the table drifted in front of his face, and he pulled the brim of his hat down, brow furrowed as he concentrated on his hand. Another bad draw. They’d already lost a bit of money, but they just needed to kill a little more time, lie low, and then continue their trek west when the train comes in.

Blaine tilted his chin upward and glanced to the side, squinting at Kurt, wondering if his luck was any better. He lifted his glass of whiskey and chugged it just before he laid his losing hand down.

Kurt followed suit, his face twisting into a grimace.

The scraggly bearded man laughed, his whole body shaking and cigar bouncing where it sat perched between his ruddy lips, and he glanced between Kurt and Blaine. The girls seated around them giggled and then rose, gliding toward the bar to offer their company to other, hopefully less broke patrons.

“Pay up, you two. I’d go on home to bed if I was you before your money runs dry.”

“Not a bad idea,” Kurt said, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “C’mon.”

Blaine tossed a few bills down on the table, tugged on the front of his hat, and followed Kurt out to the street, the doors of the dim, smoky saloon swinging shut behind them.

There were a few stragglers stumbling through the town, but for the most part, the streets were dark and deserted, and it was a relief to be able to move about unnoticed in this small Oklahoma frontier town.

Kurt and Blaine were nearly back to the inn where they’d rented a room when something caught their eye, and they slowed their pace, peering over at a lawman posting something on the bulletin board in the center of town. When he was through, he went on his way, a few more rolled up posters tucked under his arm.

“Hold up,” Blaine said, placing his hand out in front of Kurt’s chest to still him.

They paused and then doubled back, approaching the bulletin board to get a closer look.

“Shit,” Kurt said. “Well, there goes our cover.” His eyes scanned the words on the poster.

“‘Wanted: Dead’...” Blaine read aloud. “That’s it. There’s no ‘or’? They’re not even giving us the ‘alive’ option anymore? At least we’re not cheap. Look at that reward.” He let out a low whistle.

“We’ve wreaked enough havoc from New York to here, successfully evading them at every turn, so I’m sure the law is at the end of its rope with us - and wants us hanging at the end of one. I wouldn’t be too worried though.”

“Why not?”

“Take a look at these pictures. They don’t even look like us. I mean, that doesn’t do me justice at all. I’m way more handsome, and they didn’t even get the hair right.”

“Do I really look like that?” Blaine said, cocking his head to the side. “Is my nose really that big?”

Kurt chuckled. “No, honey. That’s a very bad drawing, though the resemblance is strong enough to cause us concern. We’ll need to figure out a plan tonight to get out of here before we’re recognized.”

Blaine was still staring hard at the poster, seeming to have not heard Kurt, and Kurt rolled his eyes, grabbed Blaine’s arm, and pulled him along.

* * *

In his spot on the narrow bed, Blaine laid on his back on the stiff mattress, his head turned to watch Kurt who was pacing the floor of the small room, lit only by the glow of an oil lamp that was burning in the corner.

“If it’s on schedule, the train should come in tomorrow,” Kurt said. “We need to find a way to get to the station to board it and get out of town with the stolen money.”

“I can’t wait until we get to California,” Blaine sighed. “They say the coast is brimming with gold. We won’t have to rob anyone anymore. Can finally earn something in an honest way.”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice. But right now we need to focus.” Kurt glanced at his gun where it laid in its holster on the bedside table. “I don’t wanna have to use force. Imagine if it came down to it, and they found out that we don’t even know how to use our pistols.”

Blaine sat up on the mattress, his lips curling into a smirk.

“But we do, Kurt,” Blaine began. “I can recall quite a bit of dueling we’ve done with _our_ pistols.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I mean, _private_ dueling.” Blaine winked.

Kurt didn’t even bother rolling his eyes. Instead, he moved swiftly toward Blaine and smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ow,” Blaine whined, rubbing at the spot where Kurt had struck him, but then he started laughing as Kurt stood there, face flushed, arms crossed, just glaring at him. “Ok, fine, it was a terrible joke,” he admitted.

“This isn’t the time for that,” Kurt scolded. “Let’s talk business now and - _that_ \- later.”

“Fair enough.” Blaine laid back again and stared at the ceiling. “What if we steal horses from the livery so we can move quickly?”

“That would draw way too much attention to us, and we wouldn’t get very far. We’d have to dump the poor beasts somewhere.”

“Oh, I got it,” Blaine said, sitting up suddenly this time and swinging his legs over the side to face Kurt.

Kurt stopped in his tracks and gave Blaine his full attention.

“If we want to get to the train undetected, we’ll need a disguise.”

“I’m listening,” Kurt said, unsure of where this was going.

“We can dress up as saloon girls.”

“That’s...kinda brilliant,” Kurt said, this time planting a kiss to the forehead of a somewhat redeemed Blaine. But then it dawned on him what the idea would entail if executed. “Wait. So we pick up two girls, pretend we’re going to bed them...and then we steal their clothing?”

“Mmhm.”

“And put them on?”

“Yep.”

“The dresses. We’re going to wear the dresses?”

“Yes, Kurt. Stockings and skirts and heels -”

“Oh my.”

Kurt began to picture Blaine in the getup, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head a bit at the mental image.

“I think you’ll make quite the saloon girl,” Blaine said, reaching over to pinch Kurt’s butt.

Kurt jumped and swatted his hand away. “Let’s just hope we can be convincing. Or we’re dead. And what a humiliating way to go out, too. But, what are we going to do with the money? And our own clothing?”

“Have you seen those skirts?” Blaine said. “They can hide anything.” His own words gave him pause as he thought about just what manly things would need to be concealed under those skirts. “We need something to stuff the dresses to make us believable anyway. So we’ll shove the money in the corsets. It’s the perfect crime.”

“It’s completely crazy, but I think it just might work.”

* * *

They were back in the saloon the following evening and had assumed spots at the bar, their backs turned to those seated at tables. They’d heard the train coming in, its faint whistle growing increasingly louder as it approached. The screeching of brakes as it came to a halt was their cue to spring into action, and they knew they had very little time to waste. Kurt downed his drink, setting his glass back on the counter, turned to Blaine with a wary expression, and then became very serious, turning to the lady behind the counter to proposition her.

“I’ve been quite lonely,” he said, dropping his voice down as deep as he could. “What do you say we get a room?”

Blaine turned on his charm, addressing the lady to his left. “My partner and I have been on the road for a while. It’s not every day we get to have the company of lovely ladies like yourself.”

“We’ve got two rooms just above us,” the one girl purred, moving closer, practically sitting in Blaine’s lap now.

Kurt swallowed hard. “What if we said we only need one?”

The girls shared a look, eyebrows raised, and then turned back to the men.

“Alright. ‘S long as you’re paying,” the woman behind the bar said.

Silently and inconspicuously as possible, they slipped upstairs, each with a girl on his arm. Once inside the room, the girls draped themselves across the small bed.

“You know, we’ve never done it like this before,” the one said.

“Neither have we,” Kurt said.

“Ever,” Blaine said, the truth in their statements going way over the prostitutes’ heads.

There was a wordless exchange between Kurt and Blaine, and then they approached the bed, pinned the girls down, and went to work, quickly gagging them and tying them up.

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine repeated over and over as the girl struggled, trying to scream past the fabric in her mouth.

“Quit apologizing and just get what we need,” Kurt said, pushing the one girl to the head of the bed and tying her to the post.

“There’s a closet,” Blaine said, pulling the door open. “Jackpot.”

“Hurry,” Kurt said, glancing over as Blaine pulled several garments from the rack and shelves.

“Here.” Blaine tossed Kurt a petticoat, garters, and fishnet stockings. “You’ll need to put those on first.”

The two girls stopped struggling and were now watching in bemused amusement.

“Oh, goody.” Kurt undid his pants, pulled them off, and then struggled a bit as he pulled on the underclothes.

They heard what sounded like muffled laughter coming from the girls now as the men shed their clothes and dressed in the women’s garb.

“I’m gonna need your help with this,” Blaine said, turning so Kurt could do up the back of his corset.

“Suck in, dammit,” Kurt hissed, pulling the back as tight as possible. “Since when do you have a gut?”

“I’m trying, Kurt, and since when do you have a complaint about my curves?”

“I love your body, but right now it is not agreeing with -” he pulled the corset tighter, gritting his teeth, “ - _this_...there! Thank god.” Kurt wiped at his brow with the back of his hand. He took a step back. “You look ridiculous.”

“ _We_ look ridiculous.”

“We’re not done yet,” Kurt said, seeking out the blue dress Blaine had chosen for him from the small mess of fabric piled on the floor. He pulled it on over his head, squeezing and shimmying into it. To complete the outfit, he pulled on a pair of high-heeled boots, wobbling on his feet as he tried to balance in them.

“Why are there so many layers?” Blaine said to himself, now dressed in red and black.

Kurt gazed at his reflection in the looking glass leaning up against the wall, realizing that, although his body was covered in the perfect saloon girl guise, from the neck up, he was still unmistakably all man. He snatched the makeup off the bureau and began to powder his face before applying lipstick, mascara, rouge, and whatever else he could find to the best of his abilities in order to soften and disguise his features. Blaine soon joined him, and they helped each other apply it to be as convincing - and pretty - as possible.

“We still need to cover our heads,” Blaine said, looking around the room until his eyes fell on a hat box. He scrambled over to it, his knees knocking, still a bit unsteady in his heels, and pulled the lid off. “These’ll have to do.”

Blaine sat one of the hats on Kurt’s head, and Kurt reached up past the long, floppy brim and touched the plumage with which it was elaborately decorated. The hat Blaine had picked out for himself had a short, black veil that hung down, partially concealing his face, and he fidgeted a bit as he adjusted it in the mirror.

Blaine held his hand out and helped Kurt to his feet. They examined each other, spinning around to make sure everything was in order, stuffed the money and their clothing into the corset and skirts as planned, and then headed for the door.

“Let’s get out of here before all of this completely sinks in and I lose my wits,” Kurt said.

Blaine pulled some bills out of the brassiere of his corset, mouthed sorry one last time to the girls, set the money on the table, adjusted himself again, and then hurried out behind Kurt, closing the door behind him.  

* * *

They’d made it safely to the street without arousing suspicion and without falling on their faces in the process, and both were glad to have the cover of night to make their journey to the station.

But their plan didn’t go off without a hitch.

First, a few men hollered and whistled at them as they passed by, but then they were stopped by a group of men that surrounded them. Kurt felt his heart rate spike, and he began to sweat, afraid he might sweat the makeup right off his face. He was in a panic. This close up, there was almost no chance they wouldn’t be found out and recognized, but he adjusted the brim of his hat and became very mindful of his posture, hoping beyond measure that Blaine had thought to do the same.

“Hey, ladies, you got a minute to spare? I’d pay top dollar for a minute with those tits,” one of the men said, and the others snickered and shouted.

“Can you squeeze me in? Might be a bit hard,” another said with a wink before flashing Blaine a yellowed grin.

Although disgusted, and strangely flattered, Kurt kept his calm and put on the most demure smile and voice that he could muster.

“I’m sorry, boys. It’s after hours for us, and we’re heading home to do a bit of reveling of our own.” He reached over and slid his arm into Blaine’s to link their elbows, pulling him in toward his side. He turned them around and continued walking, hips swaying, their pace quickening now. They could hear the surprised men shouting after them and catcalling with particular attention to their rears.

“Phew. That was a close call,” Blaine said, keeping his voice down and soft as possible.

“It was. Just leave the talking to me,” Kurt said. They paused as they heard the train whistle sound, signalling the last few minutes before departure. “Let’s go. We need to hurry.”

* * *

The station was crawling with people, including a few lawmen on patrol, who were pacing up and down beside the cars.

Kurt and Blaine had made it all the way here without being found out, but it was going to take a lot of luck to make it past these guys, the men who were probably stationed here specifically on the look out for those pesky outlaws whose faces were posted all over town.

“Almost there,” Kurt whispered to Blaine. “Keep your head down and follow my lead.”

His stomach was buzzing with nerves, but Kurt knew they had only one choice, to walk past these men and hope they don’t draw attention to themselves. If it had worked, it would have been too convenient, way too easy, and Kurt suppressed a groan when one of the badge-and-uniform-clad men touched his arm and stopped him.

“Whoa there, ma’am,” he spoke. “What brings a beautiful lass like you to the train station to skip town?”

Another lawman came up beside them, his hand resting on his holster, the other on his hip, as he stared fixedly with interest at Kurt and Blaine.

“Family,” Kurt said simply and breathily, his head still bowed.

“Is this your sister?” he said, gesturing toward Blaine, who nodded slightly. “It’s a shame you’re leaving town. Me and my buddy would have loved to take you out.”

“That’s very, er, kind, but we must be going -”

“Hold up.”

Kurt froze, fear shooting icily through his veins.

“How about we give you somethin’ to take with you on the road...a goodbye kiss? Just in case I never see your pretty face again?”

The final whistle blew, the train was beginning to move forward, slowly chugging as it rolled along the tracks, the engine not yet fully kicking in.

They had seconds to board.

And in a split-second decision and a few desperate movements, Kurt and Blaine grabbed the lawmen by the backs of their shirts and bashed their heads together, knocking them unconscious and leaving them to slump down to the ground beside each other.

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s arm, and they bolted, catching up with the train, and then leaped to catch the door handle of a boxcar, pulling it open and swinging for a moment before they managed to climb in and slide the door shut.

They stared at each other in the semi-darkness, chests heaving as they caught their breath.

“Finally.”

Kurt pulled the hat off his head and tossed it to the floor, gripping Blaine’s hips and pinning him to the wall of the boxcar. He yanked the top of Blaine’s dress down, loosened the corset, tugging it off and allowing it to fall away from Blaine’s torso, and then he ran his hand up his now bare chest, teasing his nipple with a finger.

Blaine let out a quivering breath. “Kurt...”

Kurt’s eyes flicked very briefly to Blaine’s painted lips, framed by rouged, dimpled cheeks, before he smashed their mouths together in a victory kiss, lipstick smearing on cheeks and chins and necks. Fingers scrambled, tangling in hair, and hands roamed, tugging and working to remove and discard their disguises.

Breathless, Kurt finally pulled back. “It feels so good to be just us again, on the move and free.”

“That was amazing how we knocked them out. I can’t believe it. Those men were so -” Blaine wore a look of disgust as he searched for the word.

“I know. But no worries. You’re the only one I want.”

“I love you,” Blaine sighed. He pulled Kurt in for another kiss.

They kissed and kissed some more as the westward bound train rattled and rumbled along the tracks, their next destination currently unknown. But they were moving in the right direction, toward a brighter horizon. And they were never looking back. 

* * *

  

 

 

 


End file.
